


The Best of Intentions...

by stopwatch_plz (immiscibility)



Category: Guardian - Fandom, 镇魂 | Guardian (TV)
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-26
Updated: 2018-09-26
Packaged: 2019-07-17 21:34:02
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,841
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16104242
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/immiscibility/pseuds/stopwatch_plz
Summary: Zhao fails to grasp how important he is, and Shen tries to help him realise. With soup....Set early on in the show, when they are still adorkably awkward around each other <3





	The Best of Intentions...

**Author's Note:**

> My first fic in two-and-a-half years, and this is what I come out with... 
> 
> Shout-out to Miki, who has spent that time trying to find a fandom for me again ;-)

The muted sound of scuffing feet in the hallway broke into Shen Wei's concentration. With a slight tut of annoyance he put down the book he had been reading and stood up, glancing at the clock on the sideboard as he adjusted his clothing. Past midnight again, he thought with a sigh. He really is going to work himself to death...

Hastily stopping that train of thought before it went any further, he made his way to the door just in time to hear the sound of footsteps replaced instead by that of keys jangling haphazardly together. He scowled slightly; drinking to excess was just as bad as working to excess, and that man seemed to do both of them far too well. Opening his door he stood there, watching as the man tried - and failed - to get the key in the lock.

"You know that drinking alcohol is extremely bad for both the body and the soul," he said, trying to keep his tone flat.

"And that's why I don't... much," Zhao muttered without turning round, his hands still fumbling at the door.

Before he could stop himself, Shen crossed the corridor and placed his hand over Zhao's own, figuring he could at least help the man into his room in his inebriated state, but as he did so he paused. "You don't smell of alcohol," he said, surprising himself by saying his thoughts out loud. Careless! he chided himself.

"I just told you I didn't drink."

"You said you didn't drink much - which is, at best, an elaboration on the truth - but that's not the point." He frowned as he put an arm on Zhao's shoulder and peered into his face. "What's wrong?" 

Zhao's pout was almost audible. "Why are you always around? Why can't I just get on with things without you sticking to me like a shadow?" He gave a snort of laughter as he looked up and swayed slightly. "Heh. I suppose you're kinda like a shadow..." 

"You're sick."

"No, I'm not. I'm drunk!" Zhao immediately protested as he returned to failing at opening his door. He'd just started to think that he might've made it when the keys were gently but forcefully plucked from his hand, slid into the lock and turned without effort to let the door swing open. He blinked once and he felt himself be steered gently but firmly into his apartment. "Oh." 

"Oh indeed," Shen muttered as he flicked on the light switch with his free hand as they passed. He glanced at the other man and his face creased with worry. Zhao's face was almost white, and his eyes glassy with no real focus to them. Without a word he led the man to the bed and helped him sit down.

"I'm fine," Zhao protested, as he slid down onto his side. "No problem. Great..." He closed his eyes and mumbled something unintelligible. 

Shen watched him and, for a moment, wondered what he should do. It wasn't like Zhao wasn't old enough to look after himself - it was just, well, he seemed to be physically and mentally unable to do so at the best of times and this really wasn't the best of times. Without a word, he took off Zhao's shoes and placed them beside the bed then pulled a blanket over the man, which got him some more mumbling and a twitch of a hand - maybe he said thank you, maybe he said go away; who knew, really - before standing up to get a glass of water which he placed on the cabinet beside the bed.

"I will be back tomorrow to check on you," he told the sleeping form.

He got snoring in response.

....

The next day was a busy one at the University. The Spring semester was in full swing now, and the demands on his time were incessant. To his shame, it was almost 5pm by the time he thought to check in on SID - or, specifically, check in on Zhao, but he didn't admit that even to himself as he picked up the phone receiver on his desk...

A few minutes later he replaced the handset on the phone precisely then leant back in his chair, frowning. Da Qing had told him that the chief hadn't been in all day, only receiving an email from him around midday saying he wouldn't be in the office, with no explanation given as to why - along with a whole list of work for everyone. It was possible that Zhao had received some information from someone about something important that had required his immediate attention elsewhere, but it was more likely that he was too sick to go in, but didn't want anyone to worry about him.

"Idiot," he muttered to himself as he cleared his belongings from his desk, closing the bag securely. He desperately wanted to check on the man but felt awkward doing so without a reason other than 'I worry about you because you seem to be incapable of doing so yourself.' Which, although true, wasn't the best thing to say to someone - especially the chief of SID. As he considered his options, suddenly he smiled. 

Yes, that would do nicely.

... 

Holding the cloth parcel in one hand he knocked gently on Zhao's door, knocking again a second time a little harder when no response was received. When he was again met with silence he tried the door, noticing with dismay that it was still unlocked from last night. Anyone could have gained access to his apartment... Brushing that concern swiftly aside, he opened the door slowly.

"Zhao. It's Shen Wei. May I come in?"

This time he got a vague grunt of assent in response, which calmed his anxiety somewhat. If Zhao was able to talk - or, at least, do a fair approximation of speech - then hopefully he wasn't too ill. He slid through the open door, closing it behind him gently as he made his way in.

"I have brought you soup," he declared solemnly as he walked to the kitchen area and placed it on the side. "I'm assuming you haven't left that bed all day, let alone fed yourself." He rummaged in the cupboard and brought out a bowl, which was joined shortly afterwards by a spoon. He untied the cloth around the pot which he had used to keep the soup warm. As he took the lid off and started to transfer some of the soup to the bowl he heard a rustling sound behind him.

"Soup?" Zhao's voice was rough, and the man coughed a few times before speaking again as he moved to a sitting position. "Where from?"

Shen paused in the middle of transferring the liquid into the bowl. "I... made it." There was a pause, then he heard Zhao laugh, which was quickly covered up by a cough, this one very much feigned. Even now, he tries to spare my feelings, he thought, the hint of a smile on his face.

"I didn't know you were a home chef as well - a man of many talents!" Zhao replied from his bed as Shen brought the bowl over, along with a small spoon, both of which he placed on the small cabinet alongside the bed. He eyed the bowl curiously as he brought himself up to a sitting position.

"It is well known that homemade cooking contains more nutrients and vitamins than store-bought food and is therefore more suitable when a person is unwell," Shen lectured absently as he held out the bowl and spoon.

Zhao took them both, a look of both curiosity and amusement playing across his face. "Well then, I shall enjoy!" he said, as he took a spoonful of the soup and shoved it into his mouth without first testing the temperature. "Ow!" he exclaimed through a mouthful of burning-hot soup as his face screwed up and he swallowed with effort. He winced slightly, as Shen just sighed and Zhao grinned at him, his amusement turning to slight discomfort when he realised that the other man wasn't leaving. "Uh, I can eat this on my own, y'know?"

Shen just continued to stare at him. "I know you can, but I suspect you won't, therefore I will wait here until you finish."

Feeling like a naughty schoolboy who had just been chastised by his teacher, he bowed his head in as close an approximation of meekness, and took another spoonful of the soup. It tasted strange, but then again he didn't make a habit of eating soup. If you were going to ingest a liquid this thin you might as well drink a beer, was his thought, but he did as he was told for possibly the first time ever, and then held out the empty bowl and spoon. "Thank you, professor Shen," he said meekly, though the words didn't match the hint of a mischievous grin playing on Zhao's lips. Shen took them both from his outstretched hands and then stood up.

"I will leave you to your rest. Please do not hesitate to ask if you need anything," he said politely, then turned and left without another word, leaving the rest of the soup on the side in the kitchen, the door closing softly behind him.

Zhao sat up in bed, his illness momentarily forgotten as he went over what had just happened as he stared at the closed door. "That guy is so weird."

...

The next day saw Shen out and about in the city, visiting other University professionals and picking up some new pens that he had ordered the previous week, and he just happened to find himself passing near to SID headquarters. It would be rude not to visit and ask about his health, he thought to himself. 

He almost believed his own excuse. Almost. 

He approached the door and opened it calmly, stepping into the large warehouse office. He looked around briefly - it seemed the team were working on some kind of project at the moment, with papers strewn across the large table and illegible writing on the board beside it. Definitely Zhao's work there. As he walked in, he saw Chu rise from his chair across the room and make his way over. 

"Professor," the solemn man greeted him formally. "How can we assist you?"

Shen was taken a little off-guard. He has expected Zhao to greet him, or at least be in the room with everyone else, lounging on the couch or sitting on the edge of someone's desk annoying them, but he was nowhere to be seen.

"I... Is the Chief in at present?" Mentally he winced. He was usually so calm and precise in all he did, yet he always managed to be caught off-guard by Zhao - even, it seemed, when the man wasn't around.

"He's off sick," Da Qing called from his desk, throwing a crumpled-up ball of paper in the air then catching it. He repeated it twice before Shen replied.

"He is still unwell?" he asked, trying to keep the worry out of his voice. He should have gone round to visit that morning before leaving for work, should have checked in on him by phone at midday. It must be something pretty bad for him to still be sick and to have told the rest of the team. He took a deep breath then let it out slowly.

"Still?" 

He tried not to wince. Of course, the chief hadn't told them about his illness yesterday. "Did he say why?" Shen asked, keeping his voice low and even, unworried. Breathe in, breathe out. He was good at this - at least, he was usually. 

Da Qing shrugged, uninterested. "Said it must've been something he ate last night."

...

 

Shen sat in his apartment in silence. He had done it - he had made Zhao sick, had poisoned him, somehow. He rested his head in his hands with a soft groan, resisting the urge to run over there and bang on the door until he was let in, to make sure the man was ok, but that wouldn't be appropriate.

He was close to ignoring that.

But, of course, he didn't. After a few more even breaths he made a decision. He stood up, the chair sliding softly over the floor underneath him, and made his way to the door.

...

He knocked on the door loudly and, as the door opened, he bowed his head. "Please forgive me." He waited for a few moments, but when the silence continued he risked peering up from his still-bowed position to see Zhao looking at him in absolute confusion. He was still searching for something else to say when his thoughts got interrupted by the sound of laughter.

"What the... Oh, you really are something!" Zhao shook his head in disbelief, then started laughing again as he looked again at Shen's utterly bewildered expression. "Well don't just stand there - unless you really want people to talk - come in." He walked back into the room without looking back, still shaking his head chuckling to himself. 

This was not what Shen had expected. Any of it. Completely taken off-guard, he mutely did what he was told and followed the other man into the room, closing the door behind him. He saw Zhao sitting on the edge of his bed, eyes sparkling with amusement, and he couldn't help feeling that he was the object of amusement in question but he had no idea why. He sat down in a nearby stool and ensured his expression was one of calmness, but before he could say anything he was beaten to it.

"Da Qing told me you'd visited the office earlier," Zhao said in an apparently off-handed manner. "I'm guessing he told you about my... earlier unfortunate situation. And my comment to him."

Shen decided that he was going to keep his mouth shut for once.

"He did! And you thought..." he burst out laughing again.

"I don't think the subject of me poisoning you is a laughing matter!" Shen replied angrily, his decision to remain silent gone to tatters in the wind. He couldn't believe the man was so flippant with it all!

"You didn't poison me," Zhao said, visibly trying to calm his amusement.

"But last night-"

"Last night I started feeling better after eating your soup so decided to go out to find some more food. Unfortunately it was late so the only places open were street stalls..." he trailed off. "Trust me, huh?"

There was a brief silence. "So I didn't hurt you?" Shen asked hesitantly, still not entirely convinced.

"You are completely off the hook, professor Shen. The culprit was my stupidity. Again."

Shen scowled, gratefulness mixed with annoyance. "You really are beyond help sometimes! Don't you know how precious your life is? What do you think the people who rely on you would do without you!"

Zhao stopped what he was doing, suddenly going still, his grin slowly fading off of his face. "I didn't- I just..." he shrugged. "I'm fine."

"This time!" Shen replied, a bit rougher than he meant to be. His relief from not being the cause of the man's illness had quickly turned to anger - was he really determined to throw his life away so easily? His emotions were still smouldering when he was interrupted.

"I'm sorry for worrying you," Zhao said softly, and he looked up to catch the other man's eyes. 

Their gaze locked for a few seconds until Shen looked away, barely keeping the flush from rising up his cheeks. He took a deep breath. "It's fine. I apologise for upsetting you when you are sick." 

Zhao waved a hand dismissively. "Ah, no upset. I'm sorry for laughing, it's just.. of all the people who would like to harm me - of which there are many I know of, and probably twice as many that I don't - yours is not a name that comes to mind." He smiled, and Shen's heart eased a little. 

"I am glad to hear that," he replied softly with a smile, and he stood up. "You will have to excuse me though, I do have some business that I need to be getting on with." He turned and went to the kitchen, picking up the now-empty soup pot that was sitting on the side. He paused then looked over his shoulder. "You really enjoyed the soup?"

"Yeah," Zhao nodded, a smile pulling at the corner of his mouth. "You can make it again if you'd like."

Shen quickly turned back round again to hide the blush threatening to overtake his face. This man was truly maddening! He busied himself sorting the items out before picking them up and turning round. "I wish you a calm and pleasant evening, Zhao Yunlan," he said as he made his way to the door, opened it and slipped through.

His last image that evening was that of Zhao sitting on his bed staring directly at him, a mischievous grin on his face - an image that he mentally filed away.


End file.
